


Love is a battlefield

by Kayama



Category: Angel: the Series
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2005-06-02
Updated: 2005-06-02
Packaged: 2018-05-31 10:31:00
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,821
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6466795
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Kayama/pseuds/Kayama
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Gunn, Wesley and Angel have to adjust to a hard future.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Love is a battlefield

_Many thanks to Snoopygirll for the beta. This story could not have been started without the endless idea's of Lilacgirl. She gets credit for half the story_

**Love is a battlefield**

Wesley felt like he was swimming, no, drowning. In darkness. Something in his brain whispered that he was waking up, but it wasn't like usual. He wasn't alone in his bed in his flat, nor was he at the hotel, sandwiched between the bodies of his lovers. 

Far from it in fact. Something was terribly wrong, but he couldn't put a finger on it. A groan escaped his lips and he carefully pried an eye open. The second eye opened and he took in his situation.

A dimly lit room, a big room. A warehouse maybe? Pain, he could feel pain. He lifted his head slowly, with difficulty. Pain flashed through his body and he could feel that something was wrong with his shoulder. 

He craned his neck so could see what. A large knife was sticking out of his left shoulder. Wesley wracked his brain trying to remember what had happened, when he realized his arms were up, not down like they should be. He looked up to find that his hands were tied and he was hanging from the ceiling.

 

Memories flashed through his foggy brain. He’d been walking back to his flat after a fight with Gunn and Angel. He had been angry. Why had they been fighting again? He’d forgotten, he could only remembered being angry at them. So incredibly angry that he hadn’t been paying attention to his surroundings. He remembered a sudden, sharp pain in his shoulder, an evil smile and then darkness.

So where was he? And why was he tied up, hanging from the ceiling with a knife embedded in his shoulder? Wincing at the pain, he took in his surrounding once again. A big, dimly lit room, a chair and Wesley himself. It didn't give him any clues about his current predicament.

There was a sound and the door opened. Wesley strained to see who or what had come in and realized he was without his glasses. No wonder the world seemed so blurry, wound and blood loss aside. A figure stopped before him, looked up and smiled that evil smile Wesley recognized from his fogged memory.

"Ah Mister Wyndam-Pryce." The man, for he looked human, looked up at him. His evil smile now schooled into an overly polite one. "You probably would like to know who I am and why you are here."

Wesley decided to remain silent, just looked at the man. Gave him the coldest look he could muster. Wesley heard the sharp slapping sound before he felt the stinging sensation on his face and the taste of blood in his mouth. The man, whoever he was, was very strong. Wesley knew his nose was broken.

"Giving me the silent treatment won't do you any favors Mr. Wyndam-Pryce." The man was unnerving, speaking as though they weren't in a dark room, as though Wesley weren’t tied to the ceiling, as though the man hadn't just broken the ex-watcher’s nose.

A sigh escaped the man's lips. "Wesley," he began, "I hope you don't mind if I call you Wesley. There's no need to be so formal, don't you agree?" Again, that polite smile.

Wesley said nothing, just stared at the man, his face blank. 

"So Wesley, I'm going to tell you why you are here, which would only be fair, after all, considering my plans for you." The man began to pace in front of Wesley. "Your partner has been a thorn in my side for centuries now.” The man became suddenly angry, "He killed my woman, my mate! My Claire” For a moment a game-face appeared, but disappeared quickly, returning to the calm features of his human face. "Therefore, I have been observing you all." The man stopped and looked at Wesley.

Again, Wesley gave no sign of emotion, even though his analytical brain was working on overtime, trying to figure out just who this man, this vampire, was. He obviously knew him, his friends and most obviously Angel. 

"I know all about you and your dirty little love-triangle.” The man’s lips curled up into a smug grin, as if he’d discovered a big secret. When in fact, it was not a secret that Wesley, Gunn and Angel were partners, in every sense of the word, and had been so for about a year now.

Even though Wesley refused to live at the hotel as Gunn did, he was madly in love with both of them. It had taken some time to adjust to the fact that all three of them loved each other and admit to that fact. But in the end they had done it. Though sometimes Wesley felt like he was the odd one out in the relationship and he knew he couldn't live without both his lovers.

"Your vampire is disgusting," the voice of the man had taken on a different tone now. Angry, disrespectful, impolite and yes, disgusted. “Having an affair with a man is not a problem, but with two? And then with two humans!” The last words were spat with the utmost disgust, almost as if the man would vomit on the spot at the thought.

Wesley only raised an eyebrow at him, with some effort, as his entire face was beginning to hurt. And the man still hadn't told him why the bloody hell he was here, tied to the ceiling, with a knife in his shoulder.

"But that's not the point." The polite voice was back. "The reason you are here, Wesley, is that you were the obvious choice." He looked up at Wesley to see if he understood, the man's face showing that is was all crystal clear to him.

Wesley, however, didn't understand but he managed to look at the man, bored. "Do get on with it. I take it there is point to all this?" He winced at the sound of his trembling voice, not liking the emotion it showed. 

The man smirked, "Oh yes, there is a point. You see, you are the weak link in the despicable triumvirate of yours. I could have gone for the girl but that would not have had as much impact and, of course, I'm a gentleman." The man started pacing again. "This is a lesson for your partner," again the last word was said with disgust, "never to cross my path, never hurt what's mine." He glanced up at Wesley, "I'm going to make sure that his demon-hunting little mind is going to be occupied with something else and I'm getting my revenge after all these decades." He gave Wesley a cold smile and walked out of Wesley’s line of sight. 

Wesley's blood ran cold when the man reappeared with a sledge-hammer. He suddenly had trouble breathing. His eyes were glued to the weapon in the man's hands. 

"Now," the man began as though he was explaining something to a five-year-old. He set down the hammer and walked up to Wesley. "This is in the way a bit," and without warning he yanked the knife out of Wesley's shoulder. "Revenge is a dish best served cold," the vampire chuckled.

Wesley bit his lip until he tasted the metallic tang of blood. He wasn't going to scream, no matter what. He glanced towards his shoulder and saw blood seeping through his torn shirt. He guessed he was lucky that it wasn't bleeding as much as he thought it would. He didn't feel so lucky when he felt the incredibly crashing pain as the sledge hammer made contact with his kneecap.

"This is only the beginning," the evil voice cackled, "this is going to be a lesson neither of you will ever forget." The laughter that followed turned his cold blood.

'This is a madman,' Wesley thought. He hoped Angel and Gunn would forgive him for being so careless and for whatever they had been fighting for. Then the blackness of nothingness swallowed him again as Wesley recognized his own screams.

**********

"Where is he?!" Angel was pacing the lobby frantically. He and Gunn had watched their lover storm out of the hotel after their fight. They’d waited an hour before going after him, only discover Wesley appeared to have disappeared. 

Gunn watched from where he sat perched on the counter. He was torn between leaving and kicking the shit out of some demons or running over and kicking some sense into the vampire. Instead he thought it was wiser to just sit there and try to calm Angel down. "You know what he can be like, man." Gunn tried to keep his voice calm and reasonable. "He'll be back once he's cooled down." It was hard because Gunn wasn't calm himself. He couldn't shake the feeling that something was wrong, terribly wrong. 

Angel nodded and turned to Gunn. He was about to say something when they heard the doors swing open.

Both men looked at the entrance of the lobby expectantly, hoping to see Wesley come in. They couldn't hide their look of disappointment when it turned out to be Cordelia. Their faces showed their concern when they noticed the panicked look on the former cheerleader’s face.

"Where’s Wesley?" Cordelia asked anxiously. She was breathing heavily and rubbing her temples, as she always did after a vision had struck her. She looked anxiously around the lobby for her British friend. "He's here right? Tell me he's here!" she demanded shrilly.

Angel grabbed her shoulders and shook her. "Cordy, what's wrong? Did you have a vision?" He searched Cordelia's eyes, "About...about Wes?" His voice started to tremble.

Gunn moved toward Cordelia and was watching his friends talking, with dread on his face. It was obvious Cordy had had a vision and it was about Wes. They needed to get a grip. Wes could be lying somewhere needing their help or worse. He could be dying. Gunn mustered up all his resolve, "What did you see Cordy? Tell us everything, this is important."

"Warehouse, on the east side." She rubbed her forehead trying hard to remember. This was crucial, this was Wesley. "Pink neon sign, I would recognize it." She looked up at the two men and winced at the look of worry on their faces. "We need to hurry, that man is going to kill him." She briskly stood up, grabbed a weapon from the cabinet and turned back to her two friends.

Gunn nodded once and grabbed his hubcap axe. It felt as though a stone had dropped in his stomach. He had a bad feeling about this and no matter what he did, he couldn't shake it.

Angel had gone out to bring the car around and returned, his face stoic. But his friends knew it was all an act, they knew he was as worried about Wesley as they were. Not only his friend, but his partner, was in danger.

Cordelia looked from Gunn's face to Angel's. She shivered. She wouldn’t want be in the shoes of whoever or whatever it was that had Wesley. She planned to do some serious damage to this man she had seen in her vision. Hopefully they would be there in time. She gripped the sword she held tighter, knowing somehow, that they were going to be too late.

**********

When they entered the warehouse it was dark and eerily quiet. Too quiet, Cordelia thought. She looked over at her two friends, who were trying to keep calm.

"I smell blood," Angel growled, his eyes glowing yellow for a second, "its Wesley's." He had to control the urge to run towards the smell because they didn't know what or who else was in the warehouse. As much as he wanted to run over to whereever Wesley was, he had his other friends to think about.

"Can you smell anyone else here?" Cordelia glanced at Angel. She was as white as a sheet. She could feel it in her bones, something was very wrong. The fact that her stomach found it necessary to do flip-flops, didn't help.

"He aint no bloodhound," Gunn scoffed. But he sounded hopeful. If Angel could sense no one else here, they could concentrate on finding Wesley. To make sure he was alright. Well, not alright, after all, Angel had smelt his blood, but alive. He just had to be alive.

Angel cocked his head and listened intently while sniffing the air, as if he were indeed a bloodhound. "Someone has been here recently, but I can only hear one heartbeat coming from that direction," he nodded with his head, to the right.

"You don't have a heartbeat either," Gunn pointed out. 

"Damn." Cordelia felt her hope going down the drain again. "I hadn't thought about vampires being here." She looked at Angel apologetically. She could smack herself for being so careless as to forget about vampires. But her friend was in need. She wished TPTB would send her clearer visions, so they would know what they would be up against.

"I don't sense any vampires around." Angel started to walk towards the heartbeat. "There was one, but it seems to be gone." He sped up his pace when he noticed the heartbeat he was focused on was slowly growing faint.

Gunn immediately followed in his footsteps. He had learned to follow Angel’s instincts by now. If Angel was in a hurry, then so was Gunn. Especially where Wesley was concerned. He made sure, however, that Cordelia was between himself and the vampire. You never knew what to expect.

A heavy, metal door was between them and their wounded friend and it was locked. Angel rattled the doorknob a few times before he lost patience. He stepped back, kicking in the door in with a vengeance.

Gunn stormed through immediately, hefting his hubcap axe, ready to take on anyone or anything who would dare to get in his way. His eyes adjusted to the darkness, helped by light coming through the now open door.

Cordelia stepped in on her guard. "Can you see anything?" she whispered, the quiver in her voice giving away her fear. She didn't try to hide it, it wasn't so much fear for herself as it was fear for her friend.

Angel walked past them briskly, "Over there." He walked in a straight line to the other side of the room, Gunn and Cordelia right behind him again.

The sight that greeted them, made them all stop breathing. Even Angel, who didn't even need too breathe. They stood frozen and could only look in horror at the heap of blood, flesh and bones they barely recognized as their friend, lying on the floor.

"Oh my god!" Cordelia was the first to recover. Her sword clattered to the ground as she ran forward and fell to her knees beside Wesley. She carefully touched his battered face. "Wes? Sweetie?" She looked up at Angel with tear-filled eyes, an unspoken question in them.

"He's alive," Angel's voice sounded strangled with repressed emotion. He carefully walked over and slowly lowered himself on the other side of his friend. He looked at the body. Blood, so much blood. A bruised face. But what made him sick were the legs. They lay at odd angles, as if they weren't a part of Wesley's body. Bones were not suppose to bend that way

Gunn was madly punching the keys of his cell-phone. His eyes frozen on Wesley's bleeding form. "Come on! Come on!" he hissed through clenched teeth into the phone. He let out a sigh of relief when some-one at the other end finally picked up. He quickly gave the address of the warehouse and made sure to tell them it was a matter of life and death. 

Walking over to his beaten friend, Gunn sank down on the other side of Angel, next to Wesley. "What did this," he asked of no-one in particular. He carefully took hold of one hand and caressed it gently.

Cordelia was wiping away tears while still calling out to her friend. "Come on Wes, talk to us, wake up!" She almost felt like shaking her friend. Even though he would be in pain, she wanted him to wake up, to show them that he would be alright, to prove that he was indeed alive.

She looked up at Gunn and Angel to see how they were coping. She noticed the looks on their faces. Worry, fear, anger but mostly rage. She felt it too. Cordelia wanted nothing more then to go after whoever or whatever had done this and take it apart with her bare hands. But their first priority now was Wesley. She was relieved to hear the faint sound of the ambulance sirens coming closer. "Hold on Wes, they're coming, we're getting you help, just hold on," she whispered in his ear.

Two pain-filled, blue eyes opened slowly and looked at her, then at Gunn and Angel. Both men leaned closer hoping that their presence would help Wes feel safe. A bloodied hand snaked out to Angel, who took it immediately. Gunn was still holding on to the hand he had grasped only moments earlier.

"I'm sorry." It was spoken so soft that all three had to strain to hear it. "I'm so sorry," Wesley whispered, before he once again gave in to the safe blackness of unconsciousness.

**********

The arrival of the ambulance and the help they were giving Wes, was a blur. It took all of Cordelia's energy to make sure that both Gunn and Angel would let the ambulance personnel actually do their work. In the end she had to forcibly pull them to the car, to drive over to the hospital.

Wesley had not woken up again. Cordelia had taken in the damage done to his body, it had been worse seeing it in the bright, harsh light of the ambulance. She considered it a blessing that he hadn't woken up. The pain he would be in, it was better that he didn't wake up until he was given some major pain-killers. She had seen Wesley's legs and feared the consequences. 

It was hours ago that they had arrived at the hospital. The police had been by asking them questions. None of them could give any answers because they didn't know anything themselves. A report was made and the police would be looking into the matter.

Angel had gone out several times to take out his frustration on innocent trashcans and walls. He was now brooding in one of the orange, plastic chairs in the waiting room. "What is taking them so long," he grumbled.

Gunn sighed. It was the tenth time Angel had asked that. He had asked himself the same thing a hundred times, he’d just never vocalized it. "Angel, you’ve seen him, it’s going to take a long time to fix that up." Gunn sat down next to Angel and patted him on the knee. At the moment, he didn't give a shit who was watching.

Angel gave him a weak smile. "He's gonna be okay, I just know it," he tried to reassure Gunn as much as himself. He looked over at the sleeping form of Cordelia, stretched out over several plastic chairs. Standing up he shrugged out his coat and tucked it around her.

It was several more hours later, when finally, a man in green scrubs appeared calling out their names. Cordelia shot up, clutching the coat that Angel had draped over her with one hand and pushing her mussed hair out of her face with the other. 

Gunn and Angel were already on their feet, focusing their attention on the doctor.

"How is he?" Gunn was the one to ask. Cordelia had moved over and was now holding on tightly to Gunn's hand, squeezing it. 

The doctor coughed. He launched into a lot of big medical words that made all three dizzy. They tried to keep focus. They let out sighs of relief when the doctor told them that Wesley was now stable and in the ICU sleeping. They had done the best they could, repairing all the damaged bones and muscle tissue that they were able to for now.

Those last words sank into Angel. "For now?" He asked, "He will need more surgery in the future?" Deep inside he had known that. You didn't live to over two-hundred years and not know that. Especially not considering Angel was who he was. But this was Wesley, Angel didn't want to know those facts without being told. Didn't want to know because he knew from his own experience during his Angelus days.

The doctor fumbled with the clipboard in his hand, reading several entries on it, or so it appeared. "Mr. Angel," he began, also looking at the other two, "there is no easy way to say this," he gestured for them to sit down. 

Gunn pushed down Angel when the vampire stubbornly kept standing, giving him a warning glance. This was not the time for stubbornness.

"I'm sorry to tell you this, but Mr. Pryce's injuries were –" his voice faltered a bit when the surgeon thought of the bloodied body he had seen on the operating table, "- very major." He took a deep breath, "Some of the damaged bones and muscle tissue were beyond repair." He looked at the three friends, seeing if his words had sunk in.

"What exactly does that mean," Cordelia asked softly. She held on to Angel’s coat as if it were a safety cloak, shielding her from anything and anyone that would harm her.

"It means that Mr. Pryce's shoulder will never heal properly, but he will be able to use it with extended therapy." The doctor let these words sink in. "His legs however are a whole different matter." He took off his glassed in a way that was all too familiar to the three friends. "He will never be able to walk again, the damage done to the legs was too great. We will be able to repair some, but walking will be too painful. The muscles also will be too weak to carry the weight of the body and the bones are too fragile." He put his glasses back on his nose, "I'm sorry," he concluded.

Cordelia collapsed in the plastic chair, rubbing her hands over her face, mussing up what little make-up was left on it. "Oh god no," she whispered. 

Angel pressed his lips together in anger, forming them into a thin line. "He'll be alright, he's strong, he's stubborn, he'll be fine," he babbled. "He can still do research, he'll have to move to the hotel." Angel started pacing.

Gunn stood in front of him, stopping the pacing and the rambling. "First things first," he said with a calmness he did not feel. "How are we going to tell him?"


End file.
